pthhhbt!
by ViTaL-4-SRvIIvAL
Summary: Maka/Stein eventually. Might have to stress the eventually, but that's all there is to it. angry Maka, cocky Stein  no pun intended - that's just how I do it  again, no pun intended  :D.
1. Chapter 1

**Ha. 'nother Soul Eater fic. I'm on a roll with these. Not a big roll. Just a little roll. Those kind of 'half-turn' rolls. Like waking up in the morning. Or more to the point – when someone's trying to wake you up in the morning, and they kind of poke you. It's that obligatory roll you do (the half-roll) – that sign of life to let them know you hear 'em and you would like very much for them to fuck off. Ha. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

There was a lull in criminal activity. A very significant lull.

Was there a fresh new face in law enforcement, working hard to change the evil-doing ways of the population. A crazy good copper with a heart of gold out to make the streets safer for civilians?

Maybe it was some sort of superhero vigilante do-gooder. In fact, there was talk of a recent surge of masked heroes popping up a couple of towns over. But it wasn't anything significant. They'd flare up and then crawl back at the first bullet wound.

There was no way of knowing… Well, there was, honestly. But the knowing wasn't interesting to Maka. Nor was it very interesting to Soul. Both of whom were suffering for the lack of bad souls to collect.

And since they couldn't collect souls, they were getting frustrated… antsy.

"Where are you going?" Maka said one evening.

Soul was pulling on his shoes, his jacket and customary headband on. He straightened and tugged a jagged lock of hair out of his eyes, then after a moments' consideration, back where it had been.

"Out." He said simply, going for the door.

Maka jolted out of her seat. "What? Where?"

He sighed, and that irritated her, but she stood and waited for him to saunter back and give her that droll stare before saying, "With Black Star and Tsumaki to that bar off the corner of that street where the guy was passing out flyers for that new club. The guy that owns the place doesn't look too close at fake ID's. Patty and Liz were supposed to meet up with us later."

She raised her eyebrows. "What about Kid?" she felt it would come across as too desperate to add, _and what about me?_

Soul stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, looking sideways as if the conversation were boring him. "Didn't want to come. I'd have asked you too, but I didn't think you'd want to either."

"I wouldn't."

He nodded. "Yeah."

_Still could've asked though…_

"Alright, see you later."

He gave her a two-fingered salute on his way out the door.

She didn't feel too bad about being left out. Bars weren't her scene. But that left her with nothing to do on a Friday night but kick up her feet and watch reruns on television until Soul stumbled in through the door. At which point she could do one of only a very few select things: one, run upstairs and pretend to be asleep; two, continue watching television with deep shame; or three, on the occasion that she couldn't stand doing either, hit Soul in the face with a shovel as he came into the door, drag his body into an alley, discard his shoes and jacket and wallet, go back home, eat a hot pocket and pretend to be anxious and worried when he came home the next morning. But that was a desperate move only for her truly pathetic moments. So far she hadn't seriously considered it.

Maka looked sideways at the clock on the wall. It was only 9 o'clock.

Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she was pulling on her trench coat on the way out the door.

There was a café not three blocks down that served coffee and pastries late into the night. The place was small but that's what was especially appealing about it. It was two storey's, with shelves and shelves of books crammed from wall to wall of the second floor.

Maka sat alone for a while on the first floor. She had a cookie and a hot chocolate with whipped cream on top, thinking it ironic that she was doing so while her friends were out drinking alcohol. Did this mean she hadn't grown up?

_No_, she thought as she crossed her legs and felt the immediate attention of two male eyes, _I've grown up plenty_.

It had been gradual, and subtle, and frankly a little disappointing. But she supposed that her thin (boyish, Soul called it) figure was best for fighting. Not that it seemed Tsumaki, Patty, or even Blair had trouble kicking some ass – but Maka figured it must be cumbersome at best to have to move fast with all that… extra…

Well, anyway, it just seemed like it would be annoying.

_At least_, Maka thought optimistically,_ I'll never have to deal with that._

Still though, she cast a quickly glance over to the two guys who'd been looking at her and sat back with a slight frown when she found that they'd already moved on, staring at another girl across the room who was showing a liberal amount of cleavage.

Maka finished off her cookie, cramming it down her gullet, and washed away the dryness with her hot chocolate. Walking past the same two boys, who continued to look past her to the other girl with the giant blimp-boobies, she ascended the stairs to the second floor. There, she lost herself in search of a good mystery.

Maneuvering through this chaos was a skill she was glad to possess. She loved this place for its floor to ceiling stacks of books, for its barely-able-to-squeeze-through aisles. It was a trial to find exactly what you wanted. It was the kind of place you had to search everywhere – look at books you'd never thought to look at if it were in a section you never went to. Science, religion, art, romance, science-fiction, mystery – it was all jumbled together.

But no matter how arduous it was to look, the looking became a sort of hunt, a quest. And when you finally found what you wanted, because you'd looked around enough to recognize what you wanted when you saw it, it was like discovering gold.

Maka's searched wound through the place until she ended up in the center of the miasma, a little place with only four couches, each faced inward toward a little round coffee table. There was never a time when a bare surface could be seen on the coffee table – but every day the books smothering it were different.

To her disappointment, there were already people there.

She never liked to admit she knew where the spot was – she liked to come across it as if by accident, as if she'd found a special place untouched by anyone or anything else.

Four girls looked up to stare at her, their eyes hopeful at first, but then disappointed. Each was reading a romance novel, she noticed. All the romances had that handled look to them – a distinct worn, used feel. She understood their reactions. Sometimes when she was reading a mystery or horror novel, she would look up at a noise, expecting to see the monster depicted in its' pages and her heart would speed up with the fantasy, her limbs energized for the fight. So she knew that deflated feeling – and turned her head respectfully and pretended to browse another aisle, waiting for them to leave.

But they didn't.

They started _talking_.

"Okay, I'm definitely going to take this book."

"Yeah, me too. I think it'll give me good dreams."

They giggled uproariously.

"Ah, who needs books? I want real life!"

"Yeah, we all know what you want."

One of the girls pulled out a notebook from her bag. It was worn and thick. Stickers and pictures adorned the front and back.

"I can't help it, he's hot."

"He's a teacher!"

"No, I agree. That man could grill a steak on his chest, he's so hot."

"Ew!"

"Yum!"

They laughed. Maka raised an eyebrow, and curled her lip in disgust. What was the matter with these people? Didn't they know this was a sacred place?

"But he's so weird."

"Oh, please, you're so weird. None of you bitches can tell me you haven't thought about him naked one time or another."

"Yeah, we have the evidence, right here."

Again, they raised the notebook like a holy tome.

"By the way, it's time to rotate the book."

"Yeah, it's your turn to have it."

One of the girls reached out and took it.

Maka was astonished. What was this, the sisterhood of the travelling notebook? When would these bitches leave?

Suddenly they went quiet. It wasn't a pleasant sort of quiet. It was a hushed, tense sort of quiet. Maka turned her head and was shocked to find all of their gazes fixed in her direction.

What had happened? Had they read her bloody, murderous thoughts? Was she that transparent?

Or maybe-

"Ladies…"

Maka jumped and jerked around.

Stein was standing there, not four feet from where she was, leaning against the shelf, looking somehow menacing in his casualness.

Maka glanced back at the girls who had shuffled and coughed, shooting each other urgent glances. Then she looked back at Stein, only to find him looking right back at her.

For some reason she was surprised and her heart hitched in her chest. Although she knew it was silly. She could hardly go unnoticed. She was right there!

He pushed off from the shelf with a languid fluidity and crossed to the other aisle, stopping to peruse a shelf so he was bordering the brightness of the place they were in and the darkness of the next aisle. He was there – very noticeably there. Half in shadow, seemingly indifferent to the five sets of eyes that followed his every move.

Maka picked up a book, and hid her nose in it.

Why hadn't she said Hi, or something? He _was_ her teacher. They _had_ spoken before. He'd always been intimidating – but why had she allowed his presence to get to her? Now it was too late to play it cool without looking like a scared little dork.

She looked up again and caught him looking, not at her, but at the four girls. His face was drawn up in shadows, and he seemed to be speculative. Then he turned his gaze on her and she froze up, caught.

He smiled a scary, toothy smile at her, as if to include her, like a co-conspirator. But what was probably meant to be friendly and mischievous only made her feel as if she were being sized up for the next meal. It was too wide. Shark-like. Predatory.

Bumps rose along her forearms and she bent her head low over her book, casting a glance at the other girls, and feeling at a very distinct disadvantage. While they huddled together, whispering, worried, she was all alone.

Suddenly, inexplicably, she had a vision of a grassy meadow.

Butterflies flittered from flower to flower. Birds chirped and chased each other - diving Kamikaze-style into the grass and popping up and out, riding the air currents. She and the other girls took the form of little bunnies in this hallucination. They rolled around, biting each others' ears, being cute and fluffy - like bunnies do.

Then there - lurking in the shadows of the surrounding trees - is a dark figure. It paces. It watches. Like a wraith. Sinister and dangerous. A tail bobs behind it. Claws extend from its gigantic paws.

It's hunting. And it's got its eyes on one of the bunnies. Just one in particular.

It's set apart from the others, not in the group. In the deceptive safety of this quiet place, the bunny has strayed from the safety of the huddle.

It hops out a little farther from the tumbling group and pokes its nose tentatively at a pretty flower.

The beast in the shadows crouches lower, its eyes lit up. It creeps closer, leaving the trees, hiding low in the grass. Light bounces off its fur briefly before it disappears through flutes of green.

The bunny regarded the grassy meadow, ears raised slightly - listening for a sound it wasn't quite sure was made... Finding nothing wrong with its surroundings, the bunny twitched it's little button nose and pawed at its fur, pushing it down, fluffing it's cute little tail - again, like bunnies do.

The beast's maw is stretched wide exposing sharp, lethal fangs. It's so close. For a second, it regards the bunny's tiny, fragile body. A glint appears in its eyes. Anticipation makes it shake. Excitement makes it breathe hard. Hunger makes a low rumble start up in its throat.

For one clear, crystalline moment, the bunny is aware of the danger. The meadow darkens and shrinks into a menacing little arena of death. That space not three feet away where the other bunnies tumble and play is in a different plane of being as far as the bunny is concerned. There is only her, and the large menacing mass breathing, moving behind her. A gust of hot breath moves the fur of her shoulders and her lovely satin ears sway with the in and out, the pull of this large creature. (Innuendos galore)

The bunny turns its head, the only movement it makes. Though there is still the slimmest chance of escape, the beast allows the bunny to regard it. And for a moment, the beast is still, as if enjoying the way the bunny's eyes widen as it takes in the length and breadth of him. Stark terror is there in the bunny's quivering body. A rolling, quaking rumble emits from the beasts' chest as if it were chuckling.

The bunny tenses, bunching up its little muscles and flattening out on the ground - a tight coil ready to spring.

But it's too late.

The beast pounces.

There's a commotion at the other table. Lots of screaming and a tangle of movement Maka can't follow. Girls flee from the table in a flurry of rustling paper. They disappear around bookshelves, book-bags trailing like flags behind them. In the midst of their cleared table is a large abused looking book sitting atop the others there – all looking jostled. And there was Stein, the party crasher.

Throwing her a one-sided smile that she couldn't help comparing to that of an attack dog – Stein leaned forward and reclaimed the book he'd slammed down on the table to scare the girls.

"My apologies." He dusted the book off on his pants, then swiped a hand down his thigh to brush off the linty stuff. "I was getting tired of waiting for them to leave."

He sat down in one of the chairs, looking far too comfortable for someone who exuded such a sinister aura.

Maka swallowed and wondered if she should have turned tail when the other girls left.

For a long moment she just stood there, contemplating her next move, aware that she was running out of time, adrenaline mixing with her blood. Any moment she was going to panic and run in terror – which seemed sensible given who she was with. But it was hardly polite.

"Why don't you sit down, Maka. I don't mind."

And that pretty much sealed her fate.

She sat, awkward, and lifted her book, watching him over the pages. But he paid her no attention. He seemed to be wholly absorbed in his reading.

_What the hell am I doing here?_ She thought in a panic. _I should have left. I really should have left. What am I going to do? Just sit here? Is _he_ really going to just sit there? Damn, this is awkward…_

Maka could still taste the cookie and chocolate milk at the back of her throat. She shifted her butt and froze as the seat creaked. She shot a glance his way to see if it'd bothered him.

It hadn't seemed to have…

She shifted again. Crossed her legs. Looked off to the right, the left. Wondered if anyone else would happen across them. Wondered if maybe she should make an effort to start off polite, useless conversation. Wondered if the place would close down soon. Wondered if someone would come to tell them to leave. Or would they just assume no one was there and shut off the lights, leaving her in the dark with this guy…

She shuddered.

"You seem preoccupied Maka," Stein intoned from his chair, still not looking at her. "I hope _I'm_ not making you uncomfortable."

Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard a slight hint of amusement.

_Is he making fun of me?_

She looked at him carefully, almost daring him to show any hint of a smile.

"I'm fine," she said, her anger strengthening her, making her bold. "You just don't usually see teachers out of a formal environment."

One of his eyebrows jerked upward and his eyes slid slowly from the page to her face. His look was eerie, and she thought maybe she'd ought to have just left that little bit of defensive anger out of her tone. But she stuck her chin out anyway.

"You make it sound as if I have no other function save for the one that serves you. How very self-centered." He lowered his book, looking intently at her. "Besides, there should be nothing to get all fidgety about. It's not like I met you at a bar and started pouring drinks down your throat. You should calm down."

Maka's face burned. He'd spoken politely – maybe that's what made it more unbearable. He was chastising her like a child. He was treating her as if she were immature – thinking immature thoughts.

"Yes," Maka agreed through gritted teeth. "I suppose so."

"Then I suppose maybe we should sit like two agreeable human beings –"

_Except you're not a human being…_

" – without any sort of impropriety – "

_Was that a goddamn smirk on his face?_

" – and I can go back to reading my book, while you figure out if you want to draw a nude man upside down or right side up…"

For a moment she wondered about Stein's sanity – something she knew was on the fast track to hell as it was.

Then, for the first time, she actually looked at the book in her hands.

There was indeed a nude man – upside down – on the page she had open.

She set the book down dumbly on the coffee table. Sitting back, she placed her hands limply on her lap.

"And _I_ was making _you_ uncomfortable."

She could do nothing but stare for a moment, so deep was her embarrassment and shame.

_I will end you, _she vowed.

* * *

**Not the end. Will add another chapter soon. Hope it wasn't too boring. Oh, yeah, and REVIEW OR DIE. 'kay, thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright so my computer is really messed up right now, so I'm just going to put this up before I run out of power.**

* * *

Maka left the café feeling drained.

After the incident with the nude man, she could not bring herself to speak. But damn did she do plenty of glaring.

Stein didn't seem perturbed by the attention. In fact, as he sat back, flipping pages in his book, scanning their contents almost carelessly, a corner of his mouth was turned up. It wasn't a full out smile, but it was there. For all Maka felt, it was a damn insult, and the man was going to pay for that mocking smirk.

But her glaring was having no effect, and it took to much energy to sustain such an outraged expression. She let it drop for a moment and realized her facial muscles were tired.

With a resigned sigh she drew her anger in and settled for a placid disapproval. She had a sneaking suspicion that all her dramatic rage seemed to be doing was fueling his narcissistic personality.

"I should leave now," she'd said, then, so he didn't get the wrong idea and think she was leaving because of _him_ – because that would be conceding some sort of defeat – she added, "I have to meet some friends of mine."

She silently berated herself for the stuffy formality. _I have to meet some friends of mine? He _knows_ who you hang out with dumbass._

He set his book down on his lap and regarded her as she stood. His look was so focused, she had to pause.

"What?"

He arched an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

She squared her shoulders. She thought about demanding an answer for his pointed inspection of her. But on second thought, she decided it would be much more satisfying if she just left.

She wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. His gaze was unfathomable. His intentions were unclear.

_Is he playing a game? Is he trying to get something out of me? _It frustrated her to no end. _What the hell does this guy want?_

Maybe he just wanted to unnerve her… keep her wondering. Maybe he was just bored and decided it would be fun to mess with her head.

He seemed to enjoy the conflict that played across her face. A mix of emotions she hadn't meant to make apparent, but nonetheless was very visible to Stein.

His smirk deepened, and she scowled and turned on her heal, intending to get as far away from him as possible.

Once outside, breathing the cool night air, she felt much better.

Drawing her coat tightly around her, she quickly beat a trail back to her and Soul's apartment.

When she got there, she realized disappointedly, that she'd still be there home hours before Soul got home. And it was all Stein's fault. If she hadn't left – not that _he_ had anything to do with making her leave – she'd have something to show for her little excursion. A new book… more to the point – the noisy plastic bag the book came in; maybe dropped _accidentally_ as she passed Soul's room so he stepped on it on the way in – so he saw she hadn't spent her Friday night holed up at home like a _nerd_.

She slowed, kicking her boots against the pavement.

_Don't be stupid_.

There was nothing wrong with staying home. Just meant she would get more sleep. And she wouldn't wake up like Soul. Fucked all to shit with the grit of last night's drinking still there on the wince of his face.

_Nothing _cool_ about Soul's hangover face_, she thought with satisfaction.

Then Maka sighed.

_Now you sound vindictive! Why does it have to matter. You're better than that._

She was, she knew she was.

Of course she was.

She was a fighter – a meister. She was going to surpass everything. She was going to gain a new level of recognition among weapon-wielders. She was going to rip up the mountains, rearrange the cosmos. She was going to be on a new level of not-to-be-fucked with. And nothing could stop her.

It didn't _really matter_ what Soul thought – although she did value his opinion in every professional respect – or what anyone else thought. It was just the inactivity that got to her.

A week and a half. That's how long they'd gone without a kill. That's how long she'd had to twiddle her thumbs and wiggle her feet in time to the monotonous, inactive, unresponsive, unstimulating heartbeat of the world with no violent maniacs on the loose.

_I just wish someone would _snap_ already. There are plenty of bad souls out there, just waiting to cross into that fucked-up state of corruption that twists their bodies so grotesquely. _

_Just give me something! Give me a baby-eating-cannibal-rapist. Give me a satan-loving-animal-sacrificing-demented-cultist. Give me -! _

Maka stopped and rubbed a hand over her face.

It was time, she decided, to get out of her own head. Maybe a good night's rest would clear away the evil she was wishing on the world. She slouched the rest of the way to her door and kicked it closed. She slipped out of her coat and tossed it over the couch and then, after a moment of standing silently in the darkness of her home, followed its example and draped herself over the couch as well.

Soon, her bones feeling loose and comfortable in this position, she closed her tired eyes and slipped unexpectedly to sleep.

* * *

Maka awoke.

The first word out of her mouth?

"Fuck."

The disjointed feeling that had been _sooo good_ the night before had disseminated into near-blinding torture upon her awakening.

She groaned, unable to move. Or, more accurately – she could move, she just preferred not to. Any slight movement caused a needle-pin tingle to flare up in the offending limb that reduced her to pained whimpers.

"Oh, my god, oh, my god…" she carefully lifted her hand and braced it against the side of the couch, using it to lift her body away. She forced her legs to tense and let out a cry as they flared up with needles.

She laid herself back carefully against the couch.

It was late morning. She knew because she could hear the sounds of people going about their day outside. The room was awash with brightness. It was Saturday.

_Great way to start of a Saturday, _she thought.

She tried again to raise herself.

But by then she was able to shame herself into stop being a big baby. She clamped her mouth tight against her outcries, and those that she unwillingly let escape were no more than complaints.

Still she rapidly sank to the floor, arching her back, twisting and shifting her muscles, trying to get her bones back in order.

"Hey," she heard from the doorway. "Don't sit on my jacket."

She turned her head.

Soul stood at the entrance to their living room, holding a half-eaten strip of bacon.

Maka then realized, she was indeed sitting on Soul's jacket.

She untangled it from her legs and held it out quizzically.

"Put it over your butt," Soul said as he strode forward to take it from her hand. "Shouldn't sleep like that – with your ass in the air. If I were half as drunk as I'd hoped I'd get that night, I might not have been so courteous. "

"That's gross. Don't talk like that to me." She said, but largely ignored his comment, instead focusing on making it to her feet.

"Didn't know what to think," he continued. "Were you mooning me? Were you coming on to me? I didn't think so. Maybe you'd been knocked out? I checked your pulse." He took another bite of his bacon. "You were a'ight."

"Why didn't you fix me up if you were _so obviously worried_."

God, what a useless partner she had.

"I put my jacket over you didn't I?" he finished off his bacon. "At least you weren't cold."

Maka sighed, driving her fist into her thighs, trying to dissipate the tingling. "Being cold is the least of my problems."

Soul reached down and pulled her upright. "Shouldn't have slept like that in the first place. That's just stupid."

He kept a steadying hand on her as she swayed, trying to keep her knees from bucking. When they did, he held her until she righted herself.

"Thanks." She said, voice light, trying not to betray her amazement at the ease with which he could handle her weight.

Sometimes, Soul seemed so grown up. Helping her stand. Not to mention he'd become a powerful weapon. Not without a little of her input, but still.

"Want breakfast?"

Maka nodded. "Yeah. I'm starving."

"Made eggs."

"Mmmm."

He let her go, letting her make her way, treading lightly. Of course he didn't stay by her side and help her to the table! That was the Old, annoying, unhelpful Soul.

He did, however, bring a plate around and served her two eggs and five strips of bacon. New, gracious, thoughtful Soul.

"You've got drool on your cheek."

She wiped her mouth distractedly before digging in to her food.

You just couldn't have one without the other.

* * *

That night, they decided to stalk the streets together.

It had come down to it.

They were either going to find something, or start something.

Too long they'd gone with nothing. It was time for a fight.

Wearing aggression and a bit of hopefulness, they went out at dusk and made a tour around the city. It was, for the most part, a quiet walk. That is to say, not _entirely_ uneventful. They did stop a mugging. There was a smallish, nervous man being shaken down by some hooded thin guy. He didn't even have a weapon on him.

Maka took the thin man out with the heel of her boot, but didn't feel it was necessary to do much else. He shook off the blow surprisingly fast but ducked out of the fight, disappearing down the sidewalk, around a corner. He was gone so fast.

Soul stood back, regarded the disappearing figure with disdain and disappointment. Then, looking down at the nervous man, who had stayed slumped on the sidewalk where he'd fallen, Soul sighed.

"I know we're supposed to be the good guys… but I just want to kill something, you know?"

The nervous man twitched, eyes wide.

"Shut up, Soul." She said, but offered the man nothing for reassurance. She wasn't feeling quite up to compassion.

Not for that man, anyway. There was something disturbing about sweaty, gutless men. Perhaps she couldn't tolerate them because of her natural character. Maybe because she'd grown up around strong people. Her father, for all his faults, was not weak like that.

She pushed the notion out of her mind, and followed Soul as they crossed the street, going around a dark, secluded building.

They continued until their feet were sore, walking through the alleyways and sniffing for trouble.

They found nothing.

Nothing until, as they sat on the curb just outside of a closed restaurant, just outside of the yellow halo of light produced by a street light, they caught a smudge of darker black moving in the murky darkness of the cemetery across the street.

"Hey," Soul said, voice low and dangerous – excited. "_there_ we are."

He leapt to his feet and Maka followed. Soul was up and over the spiked iron fence in a flash, crouching down behind a bush. Maka looked up at the fence, down at her skirt, and back up with a cocked eyebrow.

Soul waited for her, back turned, either out of politeness or he was really, really interested in beating some ass. Together, they crept forward, hiding behind headstones, watching for their target.

They waited a while, listening. The stiff sounds of a shovel hitting the earth wafted through the air. Oh, yeah, they knew that sound.

"Sounds like a new grave," she whispered. Soul nodded.

"Maybe he's into necrophilia? You think he's done this before? Maybe he's corrupt enough."

"What a sick bastard." Soul waggled his eyebrows at her with a grin. "Ready to rumble?"

She couldn't help grinning back. "Oh, yeah."

A delighted shiver of excitement went through her as they ran swiftly toward their target.

* * *

They were standing there. Ready.

But…

Maka shook her head, hardly able to believe.

Stein.

Of course. It had to be him. That damn bastard.

"Professor?" Soul shifted back to his human form. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Stopping just long enough to peer at them over the edge of the grave, Stein raised his eyebrow and threw his head back in greeting.

"How's it goin' kids?"

"Um, fine," Maka said, pulling on her earlobe. "It's just…"

"_What the fuck are you doing?_" Soul said again, slowly.

Stein gave a cough, looking around the grave for a second before tossing the shovel out. He disappeared down, lower into the grave, and they heard the sound of his hands scraping dirt off of the wooden paneling of the coffin. "I'm taking Fred out of his grave."

"Fred…" Maka read the gravestone. "Huh…"

Soul threw his hands up in the air. "Fuckin' hell. I don't believe this shit."

They heard a long sigh coming from inside the grave. His head reappeared. "Hold this for me, alright?"

He tossed his coat up and Maka caught it against her chest, with a grimace. She gave Soul a look. He just shrugged. What were they supposed to do now.

He was their teacher, but… what he was doing was wrong. How the hell were they supposed to deal with this?

There was a grunt and a corpse flew out of the grave to land at their feet.

Maka jumped back, barely suppressing a girly scream.

"Shit." Soul shook his head, running a hand through his spiked hair.

Stein hefted himself out of the grave. "Goddamn…"

He stood, took off his glasses, and rubbed the dirt from his nose and cheeks. He rolled his shoulders.

"I haven't had to dig up a body since grad school. Forgot how fucking dirty it was." He shook out his clothes, taking off his shirt, patting his pants and taking off his shoes to spill the dirt there back into the grave. He put his shoes back on and used his shirt to wipe the dirt off his hands, off the back of his neck.

Soul dug an elbow into her side and whispered into her ear, "You _could_ try not staring like an _idiot_."

Maka shook him off, scowling. "I was _not_ – ugh."

She ignored him.

Stein stuck his shirt in his waistband and grabbed the corpse from the ground, holding it up before he caught them looking at him.

"What?" he said defensively. "is anybody else going to use it?"

"You just can't take it. It's wrong."

He laughed at her as though she were naïve.

"What about the family?" put in Soul. "They're using it. They expect him to be there."

"And for all they know, he will be there."

Maka shook her head.

"You're welcome to try and stop me, if you feel that strongly about it,"

He'd said it softly, conversationally. Maybe a little hopeful? As if he were suggesting they all go get some ice cream.

She regarded him for a moment.

He'd stooped to lay the body down on the grass carefully, before extending to his full height. Was it just her, or did the moon's brightness seem to dim in his presence?

Stein extended his arms out slightly from his sides, palms out, as if to say, 'well?'

Soul shot her a look. _I'm game if you are._

She narrowed her eyes at him, then at Stein.

Was there any way they could beat him? They had to try, hadn't they? It wasn't right. He couldn't take the body.

Seconds passed as Stein watched her, an appraising look in his eyes.

With a determined set to her jaw, she reached out, taking Soul's hand. He grinned and morphed in the next second. It was on.

She spread her feet, standing ready.

"You can't take him."

He grinned, a devil glint in his eyes. The air suddenly seemed to become thinner.

Long spidery fingers reached up and rested lightly on the large screw protruding from his skull. They stayed there for a moment, caressing the edge.

"Sure you want to do this?"

Maka threw back a look of pure defiance. "Fuck, yeah."

He twisted the screw, three times, each turn echoing in her bones.

_"Don't let him get to you, Maka." _snarled Soul_. "Let's fuck this guy up."_

Maka blew out a breath and threw herself forward.

* * *

**I know... very sorry there wasn't much Stein there in the beginning. It won't end badly.. hopefully.**

**I wanted to put in more detail. Elaborate on the pure, sizzling hotness of shirtless Stein, but I chickened out. But I just don't do lovey-dovey. I wanted a little more rage, but I wasn't sure how much rage. I mean, I don't want a full out war! What am I gonna do if I end up making them kill each other? ****Whatever, it's my problem, not yours. You just get to sit back and read and wonder why Vital just doesn't seem to have her shit together. I also didn't proof-read this so if there's anything wrong I'm sorry.**

**Anyway, gotta go. my computer is dying. Hmm... review?**


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